Outfoxing Snakes and Stars
by DemonOfThe7thHell
Summary: She wasn't planning on going back in time. In fact, Harriet Vulpecula Potter was expecting to die... But since she has been shoved back it seems like it would be a waste of such an opportunity to not try to fix some things... Fem!Harry Harry/Orion planned
1. Chapter 1

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Harry stood frozen above the stone pensive as her emotions roiled inside of her, swirling around as though caught in the grasp of a whirlpool. Harry's eyes shone with anger even as they filled with the pain of loss and betrayal. She blinked slowly and the tears began to fall, mixing with blood, sweat and grime as they left their own mark upon her face.

How could they do that? What had she done that had caused the fates and destiny to abandon her so? Had she not given all of herself and what she had to them? How could they plot so cruelly to hurt her so? How dare they hurt her this way. And for what? A small bit of gold that was left to her by a dead family. Gold that she would have parted with willingly and without question if they had only asked.

Slowly Harry sank down into the throne like chair that sat behind the headmaster's desk. "One hour," she uttered. The sound barely whispering past her lips. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at a small clock that stood upon the desk's surface. Twenty minutes of Voldemort's allotted hour had flown past as she viewed the memories stored within the pensive.

Quickly she cast a look around to the portraits that still adorned the walls of the office. A sly smile crept across her face as she took in the fact that the former headmasters had all deserted their frames. Out of duty to help or fear of being damaged Harry didn't know. Nor did she care at the moment.

A moment's rifling through the drawers of the desk left her equipped with a rather fine quill, a bottle of dark colored ink, and a fresh roll of parchment. She quickly unstopped the ink and began to scribe her final revenge.

**_I, Lady Harriet Vulpecula Potter, do hereby scribe my final will and testament this day, the 2nd of May 1998, being of sound mind and sound enough body. Any will written using my name prior to this day is null and void. _**

**_ In light of recent events, I do hereby decree that all of the wealth that I own be divided equally amongst my truest and most honest friends. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley. Not a knut of this money may be shared with any of the other weasleys or Hermione Granger because of their roles in hurting and betraying me over the past seven years of my life. Neville and Luna, I also ask that the two of you take care of Teddy Lupin in my stead, as I will be unable to act as a suitable godmother wherever I have ended up. I trust the pair of you to be able to raise him to be the very best that he could be. With dreams as high as the moon, but with toes grounded so he does not get lost beyond the clouds. Fred, George, use what I give you to further fund the joke shop, for surely the world will need a bit of cheer after this whole mess with the dark tosser is up. All of you take care of one another, and live. I love you all._**

As harry finished penning the final strokes, a light golden glow encompassed the page. Her magic had accepted her final will, and it was now legally and magically binding.

Satisfied with her work, she stood and glanced at the clock one last time. Fifteen minutes left until the end. Harry felt a calm wash over her as she walked through the castle towards the forest. Once she had truly entered the forest, she pulled out the stone and twirled it within her grasp.

Slowly Harry met the gaze of each ghostly figure that surrounded her. Her parents came last, with their sad but loving smiles.

"You know I don't have any other choices at the moment," Harry whispered, throat tight.

"We know," Lilly responded, with James nodding in agreement. "We just wish that you had more time to be alive. To appreciate what little childhood you have left. But we know that the world wouldn't let you."

"My damned potter luck,"

"Too right you are Kit" Sirius guffawed. "At least you got to mess with them one last time before you go."

"I suppose I did."

"Come on now dearest," James spoke. "As much as we hate it, it's nearly time."

"Stay with me," Harry pleaded softly. "Please."

"We will stay with you until the very end," Remus nodded comfortingly.

Taking a final breath, Harry and her ghostly companions stepped forward- ready to meet with death as a friend.

"My lord," a nameless death eater stuttered in front of Voldemort as he gave his report. "None of us have seen the potter girl, and the hour is almost up."

The death eater flinched as Voldemort responded, his cold voice cutting through the silence of the forest. "Indeed. I thought that she would come out to meet me. It appears that I was… mistaken…"

"No," Harry spoke up as she stepped out from behind a particularly large tree. "You are wrong about a lot of things Tom Riddle, but that is not one of them."

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The Girl who Lived, come to die."

"Yes," Harry rolled her eyes. "That's kind of the point Tom-"

"Do not speak that name," Voldemort cried, but Harry carried on as though uninterrupted in the first place.

"If you want to kill me, I suggest skipping the evil monologue before I somehow manage to engineer one of my 'miraculous' escapes."

Voldemort snarled and raised his wand. A smile of contentment settled upon Harry's face as a jet of sickly green light shot towards her. She closed her eyes as the curse struck her chest. There was no pain, just a serene calm that engulfed her as the world around ceased to exist.


	2. Chapter 2

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Harry groaned softly as she slowly became aware of herself once more.

"I thought I died," she muttered as she sat up and opened her eyes. She froze, taking in the sight of the colorless train platform before her. "Then again maybe I did."

She stood slowly from per position on the ground, stretching on her way up as though she had just woken from a restful night's sleep.

"You're not quite dead yet," a pleasant voice sounded from behind her.

Harry whirled around, reaching for her wand- which was not there.

"Don't worry," the figure said, raising their empty hands to where she could see them. "I couldn't hurt you here even if I wanted to."

"And who might you be?" Harry questioned warily, taking a step back to be out of arm's reach of this mysterious figure.

"I _might_ be anyone or anything," the figure snarked. "But who I _am_ is of no great importance right now."

"Why?"

"Because you likely wouldn't believe me right now, Mistress."

"What-"

"Regardless," the figure interrupted. "I am here to give you a choice. You could go back to the world you just left, you could stay here and watch what happens after your sacrafice, or you could go On."

"Go On? Like- meet my parents, see all the people I've lost On?"

"Correct!" The figure clapped their hands gleefully.

Harry stared into nothingness wistfully. On. She could meet her parents, see Sirius and Remus again, and all of her friends who she lost to Voldemort- she paused, the accepting words on the tip of her tongue. Voldemort. The man who had never ceased trying to kill her since her birth. Who had hurt and killed so many in his goal to rule over magical Britain. If she went on, then who would stop him? Could he even be stopped? How many more people would be hurt or killed if she was selfish and went On.

No. Going on was not an option. Nor was staying in this space. Especially when she had a claim on all three hallows- Harry smiled. She had a claim on all three hallows. She knew who the figure was.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you met me as a friend, Death."

The figure in front of her laughed gleefully. "I knew you would be able to get it! You are so much more clever than your counterpart in another universe!"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Another universe? What-"

Death shook their head vigorously. "Nope! No! I'm not allowed to say anything more on the subject yet!"

"Yet?"

"Nope! Moving on from that! Have you made a decision yet?"

Harry blinked and shook her head slightly. "Not really," she started slowly. "I know I can't go On. I couldn't exist with the guilt, even if I'm not technically alive."

"Of course you couldn't," death muttered darkly. "Not with how Dumbledoor had you brought up."

Harry shot a questioning look at Death but moved on when they didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

"I don't think that I could stay here either. I would likely go batty within the week looking for something to do."

"Excelent!" Death exclaimed their gloom from a moment earlier seemingly forgotten. "So you have made a decision!"

"I suppose I have," Harry reluctantly admitted, playing with a section of red hair that had escaped its binding. "But I can't help thinking that going back now would be unhelpful to my current situation."

Death paused and cocked their head slightly. "And why would you say that, Mistress?"

"Partially because Voldemort has already killed so many people. The wizarding world has been crippled so effectively that even if I do go and stop him successfully, the wizarding population would likely die out within the next few generations unless something drastic was done such as forcing people to marry and have a minimum of three or four kids! That just wouldn't be effective and any governmental administration trying to enforce that would face severe backlash for infringing on a couple's right to choose offspring."

Death stared at Harry in shock. "I- was not expecting that."

"Yeah? Well, I've had a bit of time to think on the state of the world while my so called friends and I were traipsing across the country hunting horcruxes."

Death chuckled a bit as harry fumed. "Understood, Mistress."

Harry rolled her eyes. "Is there any way to get you to stop calling me that? It makes me sound like I'm some sort of dominatrix."

"No way in any version of hell," Death grinned. "And besides, who said that I'm not into that sort of thing?"

Harry shivered at the gleam that entered death's eye. "Duly noted," she stated as she shuffled a few steps away, causing Death to laugh again.

"Moving on," death said once their laughter had subsided. "You said that that's only part of your reason?"

"Well," Harry started, toying with the small clump of hair again. "The other major reason is that it would mess with my revenge plot. If I went back I would actually have to deal with the deceitful bastards, and I don't think I could do that without killing them. Then the world would likely turn on me again and say that I killed Voldemort only to take his place."

"Ah, Yes." Death nodded sagely, a strange look crossing their face. "You dying as a martyr would inspire the remaining resistance. Then those who had betrayed you would be further vilified by everyone left alive for betraying their savior and protector."

"… and protector?"

Death grinned. "Oh yes! By dying for them you did what your mother did for you. None of Voldemort's spells will work properly against them. And that would be compounded by him trying to wield your wand Mistress!"

Harry froze. Protector. She had done for the defenders of Hogwarts what her mother had done for her. They were safe- well, safe enough. "So they won't need me."

"Need you," Death started slowly. "If they were actually smart they never would have needed you. The fact that they needed you, both as a baby and as a seventeen year old is because they were too caught up in themselves to realize that every single child is given a deadly weapon at age eleven. Or if the 'blood purists' would have realized that all their inbreeding is killing their own magic, then Voldemort's ideology would never have taken root the way it did." Death paused and stared at Harry. "They only needed you the way that they did because of their own damn stupidity."

Hearing that, Harry felt both vindicated, and a bit like she'd received a punch to the gut. She had often bemoaned to Hermione that it was unfair the expectations that the wizarding world heaped upon her. But if pureblood propaganda had never taken root- "Hang on," Harry said excitedly. "If the pureblood propaganda had never taken root, then Voldemort would never have risen to power."

"Yes," Death said slowly, watching with gleaming eyes.

"So, I've already decided to go back- kind of. Sort of- so what if I still go back to the plane of the living, but I go back in time to when I can put a stop to the pure blood supremacy movement!" Harry's eyes shone with excitement as a grin threatened to split her face in two.

Death laughed. A full, deep-bellied laugh that seemed like it could cheer up even the most despairing departed soul. "My goodness," death chortled as they wiped tears from the corners of their eyes. "I've never- oh my word!"

Harry looked on impatiently as Death slowly collected themselves.

"Mistress," Death started. "You have no idea what you are asking."

"I've traveled through time before," Harry stated defensively, remembering the time turner that she used with Hermione to save Sirius.

"Yes. I'm aware." Death was patient now, like a teacher explaining a concept to a child. "However, you were going back mere hours. This would be going back years. You would not exist to run into yourself, but neither would you exist at all. You could not simply show up and proclaim that you are Harry Potter. You would first have to adopt a new Identity and integrate yourself into society once more, as an entirely new person."

"But- what would I do? I'm Harry Potter. That's who I am"

"I suppose it's a good thing I anticipated this then," a new voice cut in.

Harry and death turned to see a tall blonde woman stepping out of a swirling portal of light

"Ah," Death seemed rather put out at the interruption. "Mistress, let me introduce you to my Sister, Time"

Harry blinked. "I- well- um- er- It's Nice to meet you, uh, Miss Time."

Time laughed. "I know, you were expecting me to be some crotchety old man with a beard longer than Dumbledoor's."

Harry nodded mutely.

"Well, here I am!" Time grinned mischievously and twirled, showing off the iridescent material of her skirt as it flared. "I honestly have no idea why they thought that I would be a male presenting entity. But whatever! They'll all meet Death here at some point or another, so why bother? It means nothing in the grand scheme of things."

Death cleared his throat to get Time's attention. "You were here because…" they prompted, looking worn out from Time's constant upbeat chatter.

"Oh! Yes! Thank you Death dearest!" Time turned back to Harry with a determined look on her face and produced a manila folder. "Destiny and I decided to work together to screw Fate over because she's being a bit of a bitch towards you. So, we made an identity for you to assume since destiny knew you would eventually choose to go back in time."

Harry Took the folder and began inspecting the contents carefully.

"We have you set and ready to go as Vulpecula Harriet Peverell, a fifteen year old witch. You were born in England in 1929, and moved with your pureblood father to France at age 8 as your half blood mother had passed on soon after your birth due to complications. You attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic up until his recent death due to the war with Germany and Grindlewald, when you decided that England and Hogwarts would be safer."

"So-" Harry interrupted, a bit confused. "I'm only going back to the forties?" Harry questioned.

Time nodded, a bright grin taking over her face once more. "Yes! It was as far back as we dared to go. Any sooner and you would have a much harder time integrating into the society what with the restrictions on a woman's movement in society. Damn patriarchal bullshit. And also you are far too outspoken to fit what was expected of a woman's actions back farther. At this point you would be able to justify coming to Hogwarts part way through your education because quite a few people did, and there were very many young men and women left as orphans because of the war."

Harry nodded, then frowned. "What about money, and French? I don't know more than two words of French. And how am I supposed to know whatever they expect me to know from being brought up by my pureblood father?"

"We'll take care of that while you're out," Time stated cheerily. "Just remember when you wake up to go to Gringotts and then expect an owl from Armando Dippett. He's the headmaster at that point and will send someone to help you get settled for Hogwarts. Now. We've been here for quite a while, so we had best send you on your way before Fate gets too curious and decides to check in."

"Wait! But-" Harry stuttered trying to wrap her mind around what was happening.

"Everything will be fine Mistress," Death said from behind her. When they moved there Harry had no idea. "I'll make sure that they didn't go too far over the top for you, and I'll make sure to keep you updated on your revenge via dreams. But for now, Time is right. It's time to send you to your new time."

Before Harry could do anything, Death turned her head to face them and placed a soft kiss on her lips. At the touch, the gleaming white station faded away, and Harry knew no more.

Let me know what you think, and any suggestions are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Harry groaned as she regained consciousness once more. Her head was in agony. Like her brain was under the cruciatus curse. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into the sockets to attempt to dispel the pounding pain.

"Ah, at last," a strange, grating voice sounded somewhere off to her right. "The young Mistress Peverell rejoins the realm of the living once more. I have something for your pain. Drink."

A small potion was pressed against her arm by a vaguely claw like hand. Harry removed one hand from her head and grabbed the vial, uncorking it with her thumb. She downed it with no hesitation. Not caring if it killed her, as long as she was no longer in pain. The potion tasted foul. Worse than the horrendous concoctions she was used to, but it was effective. In the space of two breaths the excruciating pain behind her eyes had dulled to almost nothing.

With the pain manageable, Harry slowly opened her eyes and attempted to sit up- only to be reprimanded by the same grating voice. "Stay down!" the voice snapped.

Harry obeyed, recognizing the harsh tone of a healer from all her time under the tender mercies of Madam Pompfrey. She turned her head to see her current warden. She blinked as she saw a goblin scowling at her, holding a large roll of parchment. "Where am I?" She asked, her voice hoarse as though she hadn't used it in years.

The goblin before her snorted derisively. "You are in Gringotts' healing ward, Miss Peverell. And your very being here is causing quite a kerfuffle."

"I'm sorry?" Harry questioned

"It does not matter, so save your apologies." The goblin stated brusquely. "I only care to check to see that you are healthy enough to go about your business and leave my ward."

Harry nodded, and the grumpy goblin healer started muttering in gobbledygook. A few waves of odd feeling magic washed over her, and the healer nodded, seeming satisfied.

"You are more or less healthy," the healer stated, sounding very satisfied. Another potion was pressed into her hand. "If the pain increases again, take this. I recommend a good meal and sleep within the next four to five hours if possible. Now, Brodlok!"

A smaller goblin raced in and bowed "Yes healer," he responded.

"You are to escort Mistress Peverell to account manager Kurlast"

"Yes healer," And with that, Brodlok disappeared out the large stone door once more.

"He'll be waiting for you outside the door. Now. Sit yourself up slowly."

Harry obeyed, fearful of the wrath of the goblin healer before her.

"Any change? Dizziness, light head, nausea?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Now swing your legs this way and stand slowly."

Harry stood, and was surprised that the goblin healer only came up to about her chest height. And she was never very tall herself, only barley touching 150 cm (about 5' 1").

"Still feeling good?" the healer asked.

"I feel fine. Thank you healer." Harry bowed her head. It was a shallow mimicry of the bow Brodlok had given, but conveyed her thanks and respect regardless.

The healer looked away, shoving the scroll of parchment into a pocket. "I have orders to send you to your account manager as soon as you are well enough to walk. You are cleared. Leave my ward." And with that, the healer bustled off, leaving Harry by herself.

"I suppose I'd better see what's going on then," Harry sighed as she stepped towards the door. It swung open smoothly with barely a touch, and revealed Brodlok once more.

"So you are cleared Mistress Peverell," he stated, straightening his posture. "Excelent. Account manager Kurlast is expecting you. Follow me." And before she could speak, he was moving at a brisk pace. Harry hurried to catch up, the sudden change of pace not helping the slight throbbing that was starting to increase behind her eyes once more.

A few minutes and several twisting corridors later, Brodlok stopped and indicated a small stone door, only discernable from the surrounding stone walls by a small lining of silver, and a small golden plaque in its center. "Account Manager Kurlast awaits you inside." Brodlok bowed and scurried off, leaving Harry alone in the artistically rough-hewn corridor.

Harry blinked for a moment at the rather abrupt departure, and turned to the door beside her. Upon brief inspection, she found that there was no visible handle, nor hinges to indicate which way the door would swing. At a complete loss of what else to do, Harry raised her fist, and knocked on the nameplate in the center of the door.

Nothing happened for a moment, leaving Harry standing, feeling incredibly foolish, when suddenly the door swung open inwards.

"Mistress Peverell," A sharply dressed goblin with gold framed spectacles gestured that she enter from behind a rather magnificent wooden desk. "Come sit. We have much to discuss."

Harry did as asked, examining the rather resplendent office as she entered. It was nothing like the comparatively crude corridors that she had come to know in her few visits to the wizarding bank. The floor was a bright polished granite, the walls smooth and displaying various crafted pieces on plaques. There were several shelves carved into the wall behind the desk, each filled with books and files. Records- she assumed, of various accounts held within the bank. The door slammed shut behind her, causing her to whirl around, reaching for her wand. Upon seeing no new threat, she forced herself to relax, replacing her wand within its holster on her forearm.

"Account Manager Kurlast," Harry slightly inclined her head as she took the plush seat in front of the resplendent desk. "May your enemies cower before you."

A slightly feral grin spread across Kurlast's face. "And may the spilt blood of yours be a warning to others." Kurlast regarded the young looking witch before him before continuing. "On to business. You arrived in the lobby of this bank at 47 minutes past 9 in the morning yesterday, 27 July. You were unconscious and unresponsive, so we took you to our healer and preformed a heritage ritual to determine who you are." Kurlast frowned. "Unfortunately, your unexpected arrival created quite a disturbance. You appeared out of nowhere and landed upon one of our other patrons, Heir Black, as he was accompanying his father to a pre appointed meeting with his own account manager."

Harry stared for a moment as she took that information in and groaned, covering her face with her hands as she muttered several obscenities involving Death and Time. Kurlast dutifully ignored the outburst, shuffling papers until Harry recomposed herself.

"My apologies Account manager. I trust that the bank was able to maintain its relationship to Lord and Heir Black?"

"Indeed we did," Kurlast responded, seemingly unconcerned. "Neither party was injured, and indeed, Lord black was more than willing to accept the apologies offered once we learned of your status mistress."

"One moment please, Kurlast." Harry raised a hand. "Every goblin I have seen today has referred to me as Mistress. Why am I being given that title? I was under the impression that I would be referred to as Lady Peverell once I accepted my Ladyship, which I have not done yet."

"Ah, yes." Kurlast pulled up a particular sheet of parchment and looked it over. "According to our records, a formal acceptance is not necessary for acknowledgement of the title. As long as certain prerequisites are met, which you have, the title will be acknowledged within the walls of our established nation."

Harry frowned. "What were the prerequisites?"

Kurlast read directly from the parchment. "The title of Master or Mistress Peverell will be bestowed upon the next kin of the line of Peverell prior to the acceptance of the head of house ring should the following conditions be met. Firstly, they have reached the age of majority, or, should they be the last of kin, age 13. These are the ages at which the next head should be presented with the heir or head of house ring, should none of the other conditions be met. Second, they must have at least one of the Hallows in their reasonable possession for a year or more. Third, exemplifying our house's pride and honoring Death as our oldest friend."

Kurlast looked up as he finished reading and grinned at Harry's Incredulous expression as he opened a desk drawer and withdrew a small wooden box, placing it directly in front of Harry. "You, Mistress Vulpecula Harriet Peverell, to the magic of your family, have done all of these things. Magic herself recognized you as Mistress Peverell and We of the Goblin Nation refer to you as such. Your accepting the rings at this point is merely a formality for the legality of your station within the Wizarding court."

Harry leaned back in her seat and rubbed her temples. Partially in an attempt to soothe the throbbing behind her eyes once more, and partially to allow the information to sink in. "Damn you Death." She muttered under her breath. The pain was not at all helping the situation, so she took out the second potion that the healer gave her and downed it. Almost immediately the pain was nearly nonexistent.

Harry straightened up once more and picked up the box the goblin had presented her with. It was light, both in color and in weight. There was no latch, but as soon as Harry's fingers brushed across the top, the surface shimmered out of existence. Inside the light wood was an interior of black velvet, cushioning a ring. It was a platinum band, with a large black gemstone surrounded by various smaller gemstones in shades of grey. The large central gem had the Peverell coat of arms carved into its face, detailed with small inlays of platinum emphasizing the thestral that represented the house so proudly.

Harry admired the ring as she carefully removed it from its home. The metal was cool to the touch, but welcoming. Harry forced herself not to blush as the thought crossed her mind that it felt very similar to what Death's lips felt like when they had kissed her. She studiously ignored that very intrusive thought as she slowly slid the ring onto her left middle finger. A wave of magic caressed her as the ring sized itself to fit her slender fingers.

"Excelent," Kurlast said, taking the now empty box and stowing it away in his desk drawer. "Now. You have been uncocious for the better part of two days, but because of the size of your familial account, we have not yet been able to take a full accounting of your holdings." Harry nodded and waved for him to continue. "We do, however, have a list of some of your familial properties available for you now, as well as a list of which house elves are still tied to serve your familial line."

Harry accepted the thick stack of parchment that Kurlast held out to her. As she looked through, she saw that many of the properties were listed as uninhabitable due to years, if not centuries of neglect. It made sense though, and harry found that she did not care as there were only three house elves listed as still in her service after however long the line has been dormant. All three were listed as being tied to the familial property in Blackmoor. Harry looked up from the file and spoke rather imperiously. "Very well Kurlast. I thank you for your hard work attaining this information on such short notice. I trust that we shall arrange another meeting when you have finished accounting my familial holdings."

Kurlast nodded. "Yes Mistress Peverell. I anticipate that the full accounting shall be done in approximately three weeks due to the size of the accounts. However, I can now give you your key and allow you to access one of the smaller trust accounts to access your money until the full accounting has been completed." He presented a small platinum key with a large black gemstone adorning the handle. It was obviously made to reflect the house ring, harry thought, admiring it for a moment. "As the head of your house, you have access to the full family holdings, however, the account has been dormant for such a time that we will require a team of curse breakers to reopen the vault for you. It is a security measure that after 200 years of an account being dormant a ward is automatically placed to kill anyone attempting to open the vault so that we can reassign security measures to active vaults."

Harry nodded. "I expect regular updates on your accounting work."

"Every three days I shall send out a report," Kurlast agreed. "Now, the healer has stressed the importance of you resting to me. We have spent too long as is and I value my life too much to keep you here longer." He reached once more into his desk and pulled out a small bag. "A bag for you to hold your gold in after you visit your vault. It has a standard expansion charm and featherlight charm. Once you are out of the lobby, you may use your house ring to travel to whichever Peverell property you so desire."

"Thank you Kurlast," she said as she rose from her seat. "May you bathe in the glory of your enemies deaths."

"May gold and glory follow your endeavors," Kurlast responded. "Brodlok Will be waiting for you in the corridor, waiting to take you down to your vault."

Harry thanked him once more and exited the office.

"Mistress," Brodlok extended his hand towards her, holding a red satin ribbon. She looked at it and raised an eyebrow at the small goblin. "Mistress, Because you were unwell we have special permission to use this special portkey to take you to the trust vault and back up to the lobby. The carts would not be helpful in this instance."

Harry accepted that explanation and gingerly gripped one end of the ribbon. Not a moment later the portkey activated, feeling like a hook had grabbed somewhere below her navel and yanked upwards. Her head spun, even as she felt herself landing. Brodlok gripped her elbow as she swayed, steadying her.

"Thank you," she muttered, as her vision stopped swimming. She quickly removed her key from her pocket and opened the vault door, and froze.

Harry remembered how she felt the first time she had been to Gringotts. The sheer awe that she had felt when she had first beholden the seeming mountains of coins that her parents had left behind for her. That was nothing compared to this. There had to be millions of galleons in this vault alone. And this was a low(er) security trust vault. She couldn't even comprehend how much more there was in the full family vault, let alone the worth of the doubtless hundreds if not thousands of artifacts that the line had collected over the centuries.

Harry shook herself internally and took out the expanded bag. She approached one of the smaller mountains of galleons and waved her wand at it. The pile neatly rose up and flew into the bag. Satisfied that she had enough for now, she turned and exited the vault.

The portkey trip back up to the lobby was no better than the first, and harry dreaded the final portkey to what would be her new home.

She steeled herself as she exited the gringotts building, and willed the ring to take her home.

As she arrived onto the Peverell grounds for the first time, she collapsed onto her hands and knees and heaved. It would have been quite the mess had there been anything in her stomach. She acknowledged the squeaking voices of a couple different house elves as they fretted over her, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it.

Her last thought before pain and exhaustion took her once more was that at least she would be taken well care of this time.

Sorry for always ending it on her passing out. I promise it won't always be that way.

Let me know what you think! I'm open to suggestions too!


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